Surviving
by my crooked heart
Summary: Katniss volunteered to replace Prim in the Games, but she didn't think about how Prim would feel about being left behind. When Prim's guilt is too much to bear, she turns to Rory for comfort. Oneshot, Rory/Prim.


**Surviving**

_Summary: __When Katniss took Prim's place at the Reaping, she didn't think about how Prim would feel, left behind in the Seam. Hiding her true feelings about Katniss's sacrifice is hard for Prim and when Rory offers his small attempt at comfort, it's the one thing that may save her._

**Author's Note:** Ok, I haven't read the Hunger Games in a while, so I apologize for any inconsistencies in the plot! This is set on the day that Katniss left for the Capitol and revolves around Prim's feelings on the matter. I know this has probably been done a thousand times but I wanted to put my spin on it. Ok, enjoy, and please R&R! :)

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><p>The day is clear and bright. Fluffy clouds populate the vast blue sky. If it were any other day, I would be playing with Buttercup, helping my mother tend the sick who visit our house on an almost daily basis. I would be soaking rags in hot, steamy water and preparing packages of herbal remedies for them to take home.<p>

Today, however, is not any other day.

It's been exactly three hours and fifty six minutes since Katniss boarded the train that will take her to the Capitol. Three hours and fifty six minutes since she said goodbye to her friends in the Seam, all the while knowing that she may not live to see them again. Three hours and fifty six minutes for me to think about the lion's den that my sister is walking into.

Three hours and fifty six minutes is enough time for me to begin to hate her.

It was _my_ name that came out of the reaping ball. _My_ name that was chosen, not hers. When Peeta's name was called, not one of his brothers stepped forward to rescue him. They accepted what they could not change, just as Katniss should have done – but she couldn't. She rushed headfirst into danger, just as she has always done, thinking that by sacrificing herself she would be protecting me. Tears prick at my eyes at the very thought.

_How wrong she was_, I think bitterly, because this cannot be protection. What Katniss has done to me is forced me to worry for her. All I can think of is the Games that we have watched in the past, the Games that we were forced to watch by the Capitol. Images of torture and violence flash through my mind, but instead of seeing the faces of past tributes, the only face that I see is my sister's. She cries out for help. She twists and screams and turns to me with fear in her eyes and she tells me that it is all my fault, and even though I know I'm just imagining her, I know that this is the truth.

If Katniss dies in the arena, I will never forgive myself.

After the train left, I couldn't stand it any longer – the pitying gazes of the people in the Seam, pity that was tinged with something else. Accusations? The inevitable certainty that I had sent my own sister to her gruesome death? Whatever it was, I knew that I couldn't spend the entire day beneath their whispering looks. I fled to Katniss and Gale's hunting grounds, which is where I have spent the last three hours and fifty eight minutes.

No-one will find me here, I'm sure of that. Katniss and Gale have gained quite a reputation as skilled hunters, but never have they revealed the treasure trove that is their hunting grounds. If by chance someone should happen to stumble upon me by accident, I will lie and say I was talking a walk. Katniss may not be coming back, but I won't spoil this place for Gale.

The setting sun is beginning to burn my skin. I tug at the fraying sleeves of my cardigan, trying to protect what I can from the stinging rays. I have never been like Katniss, never been a true child of the Seam – while my sister inherited my father's olive skin, thick dark hair and steady grey eyes, I got my mother's wispy blonde locks and blue eyes. I am definitely an oddity where we come from.

It is almost dark when I hear the rustle of leaves behind me. I whirl around, my whole body tensed and alert for an attack that never comes. Standing in the shadows behind me is Rory Hawthorne, Gale's younger brother. I relax slightly, although I'm more than a little irritated that Rory found me here.

Rory is the second eldest in the Hawthorne family. He is barely older than me, but already he's beginning to look more and more like a man. My mother says that Mr. Hawthorne shines through in Rory, though personally, all I see when I look at him is a smaller, slighter version of Gale. Where Gale is built and bulky, Rory is slim and lithe. Katniss used to say that he had the perfect build for an archer. She was planning to teach him how to shoot after the reaping.

Thinking of her is a mistake. Tears prick at my eyes and I wipe them away furiously, not wanting Rory to see me cry. Besides, Katniss wouldn't break down like this. Katniss would be strong.

"Prim?" Rory says. His voice is soft and hesitant in the twilight.

"Yes?" I say, trying to inject as much energy into my voice as possible. It's a charade, a facade, one that I'm going to have to perfect over the coming weeks. "What do you want, Rory?"

He creeps closer, crunching leaves and twigs underfoot. Katniss and Gale wouldn't be impressed. When Gale finally gets around to teaching Rory how to hunt, he'll have to teach him how to be stealthy. It was the first thing that Katniss taught me how to do, the one and only time she took me out for a hunting lesson. As soon as we caught something, I cried. It makes my skin flush red, thinking of it now. I was sickened by the sight of a dead rabbit, caught in a humane trap, with barely any blood in sight. It's no wonder that Katniss volunteered to take my place in the Games. How would I have survived in the arena?

"Your mother has been looking for you," Rory tells me. He lowers himself onto the ground beside me, pausing for a moment to untangle his long legs. When he finally manages to settle into a comfortable position, he sighs with relief and looks at me from beneath a fringe of wild dark hair. Rory is definitely a child of the Seam – where I am pastel and light, he is charcoal and darkness. "Have you been here all day, Prim?"

I hesitate before replying. Saying yes will imply that I needed to get away from everyone, but saying no will require me to spin an elaborate tale of my whereabouts during the day. I'm too tired to think of a story, too weakened by grief over my sister's departure. I take the easy way out and meet Rory's eyes with a stubborn gaze.

It's the one thing that my sister and I have in common.

"Yes," I reply defiantly. "I have. Is there a problem, Rory?"

He shakes his head immediately. "No problem at all," he mumbles softly. His cheeks flush scarlet as he fumbles about on the dark ground, finally making contact with my hand. His fingers and palms are clammy with sweat. I consider pulling my hand out of his grasp but he squeezes my fingers tightly before I can. That simple squeeze is all it takes for me to fall to pieces.

Tears spill over my eyelids and a huge, wracking sob bursts from my chest. I cry for my sister, who may not live to see her seventeenth birthday. I cry for Peeta Mellark, who has never been anything but a friend to our family, and who will now have to kill Katniss if he wants to survive. I cry for all of the tributes in all of the Games and curse the Capitol for their cruelty.

Rory doesn't speak. He simply squeezes my hand, and when the tears have stopped flowing and my body has stopped shaking, he pulls me into a comforting embrace. I cling to him, hiccupping. He strokes my back soothingly and murmurs nonsense into my ears. By the time we break apart, his cheeks are even redder than mine, and I'm sure I can see tears in his eyes, too. We don't speak. He simply rises from the ground, holds out his hand and helps me to my feet. His grip on my hand grows stronger as we make our way home.

We walk through the streets of District 12. It is dark now. The fluffy clouds are gone, along with my sister. Rory holds onto my hand until we reach the fork in the road where we must both go our separate ways. I disappear down the path that will lead me home to my mother and Rory begins to do the same – but when I pause at the doorstep and look down the path, I'm almost sure that I can see a lanky silhouette ensuring that I arrive safely.

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><p><strong>Well, I hope you liked it. This is intended as a oneshot, although I might write a sequel. Ever since I first read the books I thought there was a huge potential for Rory and Prim as a couple - their families are close, they've both suffered the tragic loss of a parental figure, etc. Obviously we didn't see too much of them and we didn't really see them together, but I still love the idea of them being together. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this fic! Please R&amp;R, it would be great to get feedback. Also, if you want to see a sequel to this fic, let me know, because I already have an idea for it in my head. Alright, I'm going to end this ridiculously long author's note now (although I doubt anyone's still reading anyway!)<strong>

**- RawrLeahtaur**


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